These Old Bones
by Hahren Jezek
Summary: "She still thinks he is a Good Boy. She still loves him, even though his joints ache and cause him pain. She still loves him, even though his ears do not hear like they used to, and even though he cannot run as long or as far. She still loves him, even though he is old and weary." An exploration of coping with old age and mortality from the perspective of Kael, Meran's Mabari.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - This is going to be a three part mini-fic. I am writing this as a tribute to Orangeflavor, who did what I was beginning to think was impossible by moving me to such great levels with their Dragon Age One-Shot, The Last Rite. If you have not had a chance to read it, I would STRONGLY encourage you to do so. This was actually a challenge for me to write, as I usually do not write in present tense, and I have a propensity to be very long and drawn out. I attempted to follow Orangeflavor's writing style as best as I could so that the tribute feels like a cohesive addition to her one-shot: something that could be read along with it and make sense. It's also a challenge because of Feels. I am basing much of Kael's behavior off of my old malamute, who passed away many, many years ago. It's an honor and a great privilege to be writing this, and I am greatly looking forward to continuing and completing it.**

* * *

"Kael?" His Woman turns Her head to look back at him.

The Mabari lowers his head in front of his chest, flexing broad, thick-muscled shoulders to try and shake the chill of winter that still clings to his bones with a heaviness that he doesn't understand. It begins to feel as though their patrols have grown longer than before, and that His Woman bests him each time. This, Kael does not mind. He loves Her and cherishes Her strength.

But then the one that She calls 'Gerald' passes him, too.

And then the furry-faced dwarf She calls 'Oghren' strides past him, as well.

Kael's flanks begin to quiver as he looks behind him, avoiding His Woman's gaze as She stares back at him with concern etching into Her features. He does not like to be the slowest. He does not like the way the earth jars so heavily against his paws with each step. He does not like how, sometimes, Gerald hears the Dark Ones before he does. It was not like this before. Hearing footsteps drawing closer to him, Kael slowly turns his dark eyes up to look at His Woman's face, reluctantly meeting Her gaze.

"Is something the matter, Kael? Did you hear something?" She says to him.

Kael's head lowers once again, and he huffs with defeat against the dirt path they traveled. The war hound wishes that he heard something. He wishes that it was he who trotted off ahead, spotting movement in the shadows and alerting the pack. He remembers doing these things.

"Seems like he's been slowing up lately…" Gerald says. The tall man looks between the furry-faced one and His Woman.

Dejection seeps into his stance, and Kael's shoulders slump with shame. He can feel His Woman staring down at him, and as Her shadow falls over him, Kael parts his muzzle with a soft whine. He did not like to slow Her down. With his eyes shut, he does not see Her hand as She reaches out to pet him on his shoulders. Her fingers curl and scratch in just the right way through his short, greying coat.

"Good Boy." She whispers to him, patting his side.

Kael wishes that this was true. Even though he knows it is not, it makes the heaviness of his body lessen. To show Her that he is still strong and still fast Kael lumbers forward in an uneven lope, pushing his bulky mass between the tall one and the dwarf. He feels their eyes on him as he forges ahead, his steps slower than they were in previous autumns. The grizzled mabari raises his head, and his nostrils flare wide to capture the scents around him. His nose is still good. A deep breath inward draws in a wisp from the breeze, and Kael's eyes narrow as he picks apart what he smells.

There is a pregnant wolf perhaps a few miles into the forest that has passed by not long before. She smells sweet and warm, but they are not his spawn in her belly. A sour tang assaults his nose within the next layer, and Kael grumbles and growls under his breath, the coarse fur along his spine bristling unevenly. He hates the smell of the Dark Ones. Though the scent is stale, and he knows the Dark Ones have not been here for half a moon, their smell makes him think of other times, before the heaviness, and before the aches…...

* * *

_Their taint is strong in the air, and he knows they are in danger. Kael has never been under the ground before, but after he sniffs and snuffs and gets used to the darkness and stale scents on the air, it is not so bad anymore. His Woman, the scentless thing She calls 'Shale,' the beta She calls 'Sten,' and the new furry-faced one travel through the deep roads, always searching for dwarf smell._

_"__Kael?" His Woman whispers. She is a master off lowering Her voice so that only he can hear. Her eyes glimmer in the darkness, collecting the minimal lighting put off by lyrium, magma, and torches, just as his own do._

_The thick muscled war hound briskly turns about, and he trots to Her side, standing in front of Her and staring out into the darkness. His fur bristles. He knows there are seven of them, and that they are just around the next shadowy twist in their path, waiting in the darkness to strike. Kael's heart pumps faster. Slowly, his lips curl back, and his maw parts._

_Following his gaze, His Woman flicks Her eyes over, and they shine brighter than before. Her pack stills behind Her, and slowly they reach for their weapons to ready themselves for the upcoming battle._

_Kael feels His Woman's fingers scritch and scratch against the sweet spot between his shoulders, and he relishes how they curl and get beneath the thick bristles of his hackles. He is a very Good Boy, and a very good lookout. He turns towards the spawn and lowers his head defensively to guard his neck, and with a bellowing snarl, Kael leads the charge against the spawn._

_He hears Her behind him, roaring out her challenges to the Dark Ones, too._

_Even though they are outnumbered, it is not long at all before the Dark Ones lie dead beneath their feet. Kael mauls two of the seven personally. He pants happily, his maw hanging open wide as his tongue lolls out of the side of his mouth. Blood coats his short, smooth, dark brown coat, but Kael does not mind._

_"__How convenient it is to have one creature with such a nose about. I imagine It would have a hard time surviving here if It did not," the scentless mass of stone says._

_"__You have done well, Hound," the deep voiced and dark skinned giant rumbles. Kael wags his nubby tail vigorously at this man's praise. The tone is so rich and fulfilling that he cannot help it—but even better is what always comes after it._

_"__Good Boy, Kael," His Woman said; She cups his massive head between Her hands and plants a kiss on his forehead, rewarding him with scratches to his thick neck and chest._

* * *

As they approach the den's gates, Kael can't help but feel relief. He keeps himself ahead of the rest of their pack as they walk, trying to make sure that they did not have to see him falter or grow tired. The heaviness in his limbs has only grown worse, and his paws ache sorely after such a long walk. But he makes it. Slobber dangles from the corners of his open jaws, and Kael sways his head about to look inside of the courtyard as they are welcomed back. His vision pulses and darkens. Shadows throb at the edges of his sights, and it seems to him that no matter how many times he blinks, he cannot get rid of the foggy haze that collects in front of him.

While the returning patrol settles in and prepares to separate, Kael tries to catch his breath. Limping, head still drooping, Kael forces a loud, gruff hack, trying to settle his erratic heartbeat and to rid the congested feeling in his diaphragm. It is not the first time that he has done this, and Kael knows how it worries His Woman.

Her head turns back to look at him. She looks at the thick drool collecting in his jowls, the way he is now more grey than brown, and the way he favors the leg he injured long ago.

"Kael, come, please." His Woman calls to him.

Though he wants to do nothing more than stretch out across the cool dirt and rest his eyes, Kael obediently pushes himself closer to Her. She stares at him in a way that makes the cropped rims of his ears try to pin. He has seen Her use this expression, back when the old woman traveled with them, and then when His Woman and he travel to the tower of nightmares to say their goodbyes to Wynne as death claimed her in the second winter after the Blight had ended.

He has not thought of the old woman in many, many moons. Kael plods and limps after His Woman, doing his best to keep pace, but finding himself grateful for every distraction a guard or steward presented.

"Commander," they would call.

"Tabris," they would say.

His Woman tended to them as any proper alpha would, and while She works, Kael sits just beside Her, or leans perhaps too heavily against Her leg. Just as he thinks that perhaps She intends to make him walk alongside Her well into the night, the elf that smells of musk, wines, and spices rounds the corner, dipping his head as he smiles roguishly.

"Meran," he coos.

Kael snorts at the scent His Woman releases, lowering his head and heaving himself to his paws. She intends to go somewhere that he cannot follow Her, and he knows this without being told. The rug at the end of the hall sings to him, calling his name adoringly with its plush looks.

"What's got into him?" Zevran says, and he points behind His Woman to Kael.

"H-he's—" His Woman sighs and shakes her head, "Let him be. Come on," She says.

The mabari lowers his hips with some difficulty to the rug beneath him and he turns his head to watch after the musky one and His Woman until they round the bend, disappearing to her chambers. The click of the door makes his cropped ears wiggle once, then twice. When silence follows, Kael lowers his head to the rug and lets his muzzle mush against the fabric. It smells of old tapestries, dirt from the east side of the barn, and of the same dust that he remembers smelling inside of the old woman's chambers.

And again, he thinks of her…..

* * *

_"__Meran, now I told you not to come all this way!" The old woman says. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, but Kael does not think she is upset. She does not smell like it—instead she smells sickly sweet, and there is a lingering bitterness that enters his maw as His Woman and he steps forward. _

_The old woman is dying. He can smell it on her skin and in her breath. The massive war hound turns his head to look up at His Woman for guidance. He did not like this. It was not normal to linger where death waited. When death calls, one answers._

_"__You've told me a great many things, Wynne. But I couldn't obey that." His Woman speaks softly, seating herself at the edge of the old woman's bed. She reaches out to grasp her frail hands._

_"__Pah, you say that like you listened to any of my advice to begin with." The old woman laughs, but she does not have the strength to keep doing so for long. A wheeze enters her happy sounds, and soon Wynne is shuddering, sweating, and struggling for air as she coughs and hacks into her bony wrist._

_Kael pushes his head up onto the bed and rests his chin against the smelly blankets. He stares up at the old woman. _

_"__Is there anything that I can do for you?" His Woman's tone of voice is sad and thick with sorrow, but also respect. The old woman means something to Her, just as she means something to Kael, who finds himself beginning to think of the sweet meats she sneaks him and all of her spoiling praises. He will miss the old woman, too. Kael whines gently and shuffles forward, pushing himself up so that his barrel chest is resting on the bed beside Wynne, and his impossibly large paws stretch out towards her. Gently, he touches the bulge of her hip beneath the blanket with the bend of his furry toes._

_"__Oh, no… no, Meran, it's just time." Wynne says. _

_She turns her eyes to Kael's box-like head, and somehow the sickly old woman musters the energy and strength to reach up to place her gnarled, arthritic fingers on top of Kael's forehead, swirling and circling her nails through the thin fur._

_"__It's just my time," she says, the corners of her mouth beginning to pull up into the faintest of smiles, "I'm very proud of you, did you know that?" the smell of salt assaults his nostrils as the old woman's eyes water rapidly, and when the thick trails of tears streak down her face, the thickset hound leans forward and licks the droplets off of her withering, wrinkling cheeks._

_"__I know. It was an honor to have met and traveled with you, Wy—Kael, no, down," Meran chastises him, abruptly gripping his scruff and pulling his head back. He sulks, dipping his chin down apologetically and smothers his muzzle against the bed. He did not mean to be Bad, but he think the old woman is sad, and he does not wish for her to be._

_"__He's fine, Meran," Wynne breathes, head shaking as she reaches out to set her hand on top of His Woman's wrist. The two women look to each other for a time in silence, and it isn't until the old woman breaks it that the tension snaps in twain._

_"__Everyone has a Time, Meran. Make sure you're ready when it comes, and that you feel no shame or regret," she begins to cry again, but the corners of her mouth are pulled up into a gentle, peaceful smile. Kael does not know what to do. He looks to His Woman for guidance._

_She is quiet, watching the life ebb out of Wynne with each breath, until the old woman exhales one last time, her lungs rattling inside of her chest, the sound of death gathering._

_She grips Her pendant from Ostagar._

* * *

Kael chuffs as he rouses himself from his memories. He snorts to try and get the scents of stale carpets and drapes out of his nose, and to push the old woman out of his mind. The muffled noises from His Woman's chambers cease and Kael's slowly blurring eyes turn towards her door. His legs shift beneath him. It will not be long now.

Minutes later, the musky one pushes open the door. His tunic is full of wrinkles and it hangs from his lean shoulders crookedly.

Pushing himself to his paws, Kael groans tiredly and lumbers towards His Woman's rooms. They will stink of sex and pheromones, but he is willing to put up with both, as long as he can listen to Her gentle snores and feel the warmth of the crackling fire against his aching joints. The elf stands before him, staring down at his stoic, bestial snout with confusion and pity. Slowly he reaches a hand out to pet Kael. He tolerates this because he knows this is His Woman's mate.

"Ready for a snooze, old boy?" Zevran murmurs, squatting down so that his face is level with Kael's. The elf's eyes rove over Kael's features, and the mabari stares past him into His Woman's private rooms, ogling the cushion he had claimed and moved to the rug in front of the fire. The musky one looks him over appraisingly, noting the thick ridges of scars that mottle nearly his entire body. He looks at the bald swatches across Kael's legs, the grey fur collecting and spreading from his muzzle across his body. He looks at the murky films starting to form over Kael's eyes. Though he isn't paying attention, Kael can see the elf purse his lips with an unspoken, unpleasant thought.

"Good night, boy…" he murmurs gruffly.

Kael chuffs once, his head hanging low as he prowls past the elf and into His Woman's chambers where he can smell Her thickly in the air; a quick sweep of his gaze shows Her sprawling across Her bed, undressed and glistening in a sheen of sweat and wetness. She will fall asleep very soon, and so will he.

He reaches his pillow and slumps down on top of it with a heavy sigh. Aching legs stretch out in an effort to rid the pains and twinges of age and poor weather. As Her snores begin to sound out, Kael turns his eyes to the low banked fire, and he stares at the dancing flames. Sleep will not claim him, despite how he tries to soothe himself. The pain in his hips and the dull throbs across battle scars keep him awake long into the early hours of the morning. Soon, he hears His Woman sitting up in bed and yawning, waking from a restful slumber and dressing Herself for another day of work.

Dread begins to form in his chest, and the physical aches that plague him seep into his heart, too. He does not want to be a bad or lazy boy. Slowly, trying not to draw her attention to himself, Kael wriggles against his cushion, trying to turn his head away from Her and out of Her sight.

Footsteps sound behind him and stop.

The leather and steel chains and links in Her armor whine and clink as She stoops behind him and rests Her hand on his back. For long minutes, She squats behind him and pets him. He does not know if She is encouraging him to get up or if She is consoling him. Kael's eyes shut tightly, and the old, grizzled war hound hitches a paw up to hide his face from Her.

"Kael…." She breathes. Her fingers rub gently over his back, ending with gentle pats to his sides. Hesitantly, She rises to Her feet. "Be a Good Boy, Kael. Stay," the pitch of her voice rises, and it makes Kael think of happy times and of wrestling in fields of thick, green grass. She was telling him to Stay.

"You're a Good Boy, Kael… you've done so Good. You can Stay, Boy, it's okay…"

Slowly, his paw draws itself off of his muzzle, and he brings his head up to watch after Her as She starts to draw Her hands back, smiling down at him with acceptance. She still thinks he is a Good Boy. She still loves him, even though his joints ache and cause him pain. She still loves him, even though his ears do not hear like they used to, and even though he cannot run as long or as far. She still loves him, even though he is old and weary.

And that is all he needs.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Well, here's part 2. One more after this. Reviews and all that are appreciated, and if you're reading this far and still haven't read Orangeflavor's The Last Rite, I'm gonna take this moment to nudge you in that direction. **

* * *

Three months pass, and Kael Stays as His Woman leaves.

His routine changes from marching after Her every moment of every day to instead waking Her up with gentle nuzzles and doggy kisses, lying at Her feet as She breaks Her fast, and listening as She tells him what routes She will take this day. It is then that She departs, rubbing the base of his ears fondly and giving him praises and pets each time. He misses walking with Her. He misses exploring the Ferelden countryside with His Woman. He misses doing his duty to protect Her from all danger.

But he likes this, too.

The door creaks and groans to a close, and Kael stares intently at the heavy wood for long moments. It grows harder with each moon to hear her footsteps echoing down the halls, and so Kael waits longer, just to be sure. Staying behind is not hard anymore. Once She leaves, Kael turns back into Her chambers. His nose twitches, drawing in Her scent. Everywhere he plods, everything that he snuffs against, it all smells of Her. It is the best scent that he knows. Kael lumbers over to Her bed. He eyes the height of the jump he must make, and an uncertain grumble rolls in his throat. He wants to do it, to jump up and lie among Her pillows and blankets and smell Her until She returns to Her den, but Kael is not sure he can manage the jump.

The backs of his flanks twitch rapidly, and Kael raises one forepaw, then the other. Hunkering low, he pushes off, hauling himself bodily and with great difficulty on top of His Woman's bed. His hind legs have kicked the blankets into a disheveled mess by the time he settles. A heavy sigh wrestles free of his maw. He fears that someday soon, he will not be able to make the jump.

And if he cannot make it, he cannot greet Her each morning.

It is this thought that pains him the most.

He lowers his bulky head and rests it against his paws, letting his neck muscles relax so that his nose will press into the soft fabric of the blankets. Her scent is changing with the spring months approaching, just as it always has. Her smiles grow wider, Her head fur grows fuller, and the brisk pace he has loved as a youth returns to her steps. Heavy eyelids droop at the thought of Her quickening pace. Even if one morning he feels well enough to patrol their territory with the rest of the pack, he knows that he will not keep up with Her. Still, he loves the joy She feels. His eyes close slowly, and a soft sigh wooshes out against the blankets. He remembers springs long past, when his teeth still gleam white in the sun, and before he has quite so many scars.

He remembers the way Her eyes sparkle with delight to be rid of the cold, and he remembers Her scent, as it has not been in many moons….

* * *

_She smells of sweet clovers, raisins, sweat, and dirt with just the right amount of foot smell ground into it. Kael feels the electric excitement sparking off of Her hide and onto his. It makes him tense and strain. It is almost time._

_His Woman pulls an arrow from the quiver at Her hip. She knocks it silently. The pair waits for just the right moment. A young buck tip-toes forward, a set of small, velvety antlers sprouting from his skull making him no more than a year old. Even as small as they are, it is enough to make Kael salivate at the thought of getting to gnaw the chewy membrane away from bones. It is his favorite part of their spring hunts._

_The string of the bow twangs as it sends the arrow flying, and Kael thunders after it, snapping and snarling his fangs. The buck bellows in pain as the shaft of the arrow sinks deeply into his gut. Panicking, he flees. The dark brown mabari at his heels lunges forward and leaps onto his back. The dog's maw closes around his throat, and with a strong jerk of his head, he snaps the neck. The buck crumples to the forest floor and sends Kael tumbling ahead. Blood fills his maw. Turning back to his kill, Kael trots back to stand on top of it, his nubby tail wagging proudly as he waits to show His Woman his good work—He is not a hunting dog, but he thinks that he does well enough to please Her._

_He hears the brambles rustling before he hears Her voice. It makes him bark excitedly, bowing his forelegs in front of him with his rump hitched high in the air. It is a good kill, and he is a Good Boy. _

_"__Yes! Good Boy, Kael! That's my Good, Handsome Boy!" His Woman praises him._

_Hearing Her so pleased with him makes his body quiver with joy, and Kael lunges forward off of the buck's corpse to greet Her, jumping up and resting his paws on Her shoulders. On his hind legs, standing straight, the great beast stands taller than His Woman does. Her hands dance over his sides and his belly, curling Her fingers to scratch at his pits and flanks._

_"__Do you want to help me carry it back, Kael?" She says, stepping out from under him and over to their kill. She smiles as She looks as their handiwork, and Her fingers close around the shaft of the arrow to pull it free. _

_He does, he does, he does! Kael bows forward again, pushing at Her heels with his black claws, nubby tail wagging excitedly. He is a strong dog, everyone tells him so. Marching over with his head held high and his muscles rippling beneath his shiny coat, Kael lets his tongue hang out of his mouth as he waits for His Woman to strap a tether to the deer to him. She fits a makeshift harness around his barrel chest, barely having enough to tie it together. She struggles as She hefts the deer and positions it on top of him, splaying its four legs out over his own, but thankfully She bends the head back so that it will not droop in his face as he runs._

_"__Okay, Kael, let's get back to camp now," She says._

* * *

Kael feels the brief sensation of falling before his bulky body connects smartly with the wooden floors of His Woman's chambers. The hound groans, and realizing his mouth feels dry, opens his eyes to look down at a very large pillow crammed between his jaws, soaking with drool. It has only been a dream. He pulls his head back and drops the pillow on the floor. More and more he has these dreams, always of happier times. Unable to hold his head quite so high, Kael slumps off towards the door, sporting a minor limp after the fall from the tall bed aggravates his hips.

He will not be able to sleep again until the ache in his body fades away. Instead, he plods to the kitchens and hassles his way inside of the meat lockers. Kael lies at the foot of a barrel as the Anders cook hacks into a thick haunch of boar meat. It is not the same as venison, but he does not feel picky with the persistent growling his hunting dream has left him with.

"There you are, you big beast, off with you," the cook chunks a large, bloody slab of meat down onto the ground in front of Kael, and the hound happily hunches forward to snatch it up into his jaws. He wags his nub gratefully and leaves the man alone after this, as he knows better than to push his luck. His sides already bulge out in ways they never have, and he knows his belly feels softer against the ground with the fatness of a housedog. He plods onward, going round the same turns and scratching at the same doors as he has been.

The door to her chambers pushes open, and Kael raises his grizzly old head, a low whuff building inside of his chest. It seems to him that not enough time has passed, as absorbed as he is with chewing on his slab of meat—now devoured all except for a gristle-covered bone. But His Woman stands before him. She is out of breath and smiles down at him, and pats her leg affectionately.

"Kael! I didn't mean to scare you old boy, come here, let me see you," it seems to Kael that She uses more and more sweet words as the moon cycles through its phases. He does not complain, it makes him happy to hear Her voice. He abandons his treat and hobbles over, still sporting an ache in his leg after his fall from earlier in the day. He feels Her eyes track over his body, and Kael smacks his jowls audibly to draw Her attention to the present. She is forgetting the best part of their new schedule—the Welcome Home Scratches. His Woman crouches down in front of him. Her hands reach out and settle on his chest, gently kneading hardened muscles and bald patches.

"I see you had no trouble finding your way to the kitchens after I left," She teases him gently and pats his fattening sides. At first, he worries that his loss of shape and form displeases Her, but more and more at night She sneaks him sweet meats and crumbs from Her late night private meals. He gobbles them up even though he is not hungry. The pets finally cease, and His Woman pushes Herself to Her feet. She steps father into Her quarters, and he follows Her gaze to look at the mess he has made of Her bed.

She says nothing to him and merely eyes the pillow he has hauled to the ground along with him. She pets him gently between the ears. In winters past, he remembers sighs of exasperation whenever he got into Her bedding, or the beds of Her companions.

"Come on, let's get up into bed." She says.

It is odd, but Kael longs for just one last stern look.

* * *

_Kael does not know how long they have been under the earth, but it feels like a long time. Finally, they have found the Dwarf Scent they sought, but she will not come to them. To get to her, His Woman and the rest of their pack must travel through throngs of Darkspawn and into hallways with tiles that shift and press down whenever he steps on them._

_But they have come here for her, and they will not leave without her._

_So the pack travels through the awful maze._

_And still, it is not enough._

_His Woman finds a stone giant even bigger than the scentless one that follows behind, and the creature begins to speak to her in deep, bone rattling tones. It tells her of things that Kael does not understand and in a way that he understands even less. And just like that, the Dwarf Scent returns, and her grating voice shouts out. Challenges such as this, Kael comprehends. She means to harm His Woman._

_All around them, the statues come to life. Scentless beings roll shoulders made out of boulders, and their eyes begin to glow a pale blue. He cannot bite these things. He has tried to bite the scentless one called Shale before, and it merely makes the sound of laughter at him. There is only one creature he can bite._

_And she was charging towards His Woman with a heavy mace brandished in her arms._

_Snarling out a warning and a challenge, Kael ducks and bolts beneath the legs of one of the rock giants, narrowly avoiding a glancing blow to his flanks. His Woman is doing her best to avoid being grabbed by one of the scentless creatures, and she does not see the dwarf woman charging headlong at her. He hears the giant She calls Sten heaving himself against her current attacker. The mass of rock breaks into several pieces as thick veins bulge in Sten's arms and neck. One of them rolls on top of His Woman's foot, pinning her to the ground. She cannot escape the dwarf—it is up to him to save her._

_"__It's mine, it's MINE!" The dwarf bellows as she charges. The mace raises high above her head, and Kael sees His Woman struggling to get away in time. He has only one chance._

_The massive hound thunders toward the pair and inserts himself between them. His jaws close around the dwarf's face at the same moment her mallet slams down on where His Woman would have been. Instead, it crushes his hind leg. The pain is unreal, and Kael knows that he yelps in pain even as he growls at this woman. His teeth do not stop their conquest, and soon his painful whimpers and the sound of his bones crushing and snapping is drowned out by the one they call Branka as she falls to the ground beneath his heavy weight, wrestling with him._

_She grabs for ear flaps that he does not have. She tries to pull at his thick face wrinkles and jowls. She tries everything that she can to prevent the rampaging mabari from ending her life on the cold stone floors—not even a hundred paces from her conquest._

_And she fails._

_Kael's mouth fills with blood as his teeth tear apart her throat. They rend straight through her jugular and all of the tendons in her neck. He tears flesh from her face in such ways and with such anger in his heart that he has never known himself capable of. He willfully fights for His Woman always, but she is a capable alpha, and he has never seen her so close to death. This dwarf means to kill His Woman._

_It awakens something inside of him that never truly leaves him._

_The giant moves the rock slab off of Her foot, and while he chews pieces of Branka still stuck inside of his muzzle, His Woman takes the control rod from where it falls to the ground. The scentless ones, except for the one She calls Shale, stop moving. "Kael! Kael, off!" He feels a gentle open fingered pinch to his uninjured flank, and the big brute whips his blood-soaked head around, lips preemptively curling back—only to see that it is His Woman. _

_Kael cannot get off of the desecrated dwarf. His rear leg bleeds where the jagged bone stabs through thick muscle and hide, and the entire limb twists in unnatural ways. It pains him terribly, and he hopes that they will make it back to where the sun shines, soon. _

_"__Sten, help him," She orders._

_The bronze skinned giant kneels before him, "You are a True Warrior, and worthy of respect," he says. He scoops Kael up in his arms, and the hound growls weakly at the feeling of lifting off the ground. As Sten separates him from the kill, Kael's head begins to swim. He looks to His Woman, and he keeps Her in his sights; if he is to fade to nothingness, She will be the last that he sees._

_"__Hold on, Boy, just hold on," Her voice quiets as his vision blackens._

* * *

Kael begins to track the passage of time not by the changing cycles of the moon, but by the growing soreness of his body. He feels the months pass by as things begin to sound as though they come from some far off place. He knows he grows older as his eyes become murky.

One such morning, Kael awakes to find that he can no longer hear.

For long moments, the hound lies in his new place at floor by His Woman's bed. He cannot make the jump, and he is too large for Her to lift him up. The cropped rims of his ears turn this way and that, trying to pick out the gentle sound of Her snores.

He cannot hear Her.

Hitching his neck up, Kael scrambles to his paws, his ever stiffening hind leg giving him even more trouble. He must find Her. He must ensure She is well and safe. The mabari turns about and tries to let out a questioning bark. He feels it, but he does not hear it. It makes his body quiver with confusion and fear. Kael barks again, and then another time after that. Still, he cannot hear it. Whining loudly, the grizzled hound lifts a paw and swipes it across the blankets on His Woman's bed. Her body is there, but he cannot hear Her breathing, and he cannot bear the thought of failing Her.

One of Her hands slips out from beneath the blanket and flops into his face. Kael cannot tell if he makes Her do this, or if She is still alive and safe. He grasps Her arm as gently as he can manage in his maw, and with an urgency he doesn't understand, Kael drags Her from Her bed and onto the floor. Her mouth opens, but he cannot hear the expletive She shouts, or the displeased tone that She uses at having been so rudely awakened from Her slumbers.

He must find help. The old woman is long deceased, but there are others like her. The blonde man with his feathery clothes sometimes helps others with their injuries. If Kael can sniff him out, he will help.

The hound scrambles away from Her grasping hands, barking and howling with desperation as he charges to the door, rearing up to chew at the thick metal handle. He paws and scratches, causing deep grooves to etch their way into the wooden surface as chips flick off into the shadows by the near wall.

Her shouts are lost on him. The most he feels is the floor shaking under his paws as she runs to him, trying to get the door open for him. He thunders out, skidding across the stone floors. Doors open along the halls. Heads poke out of dimly lit rooms, and sometimes Kael feels footsteps slapping against the ground behind his paws, or fingers trying to grab his haunches and stop him. He remembers the tower of nightmares. He fears that, as he scrambles through the keep, he is back in that dark place.

He can't hear Her calling for him.

* * *

_Kael's body sports burns in places he didn't know flames can reach. Terrible things echo through the halls of the tower, and he smells fear thick in the air. All of the smells muddle together and confuse him. Kael pins his shoulder to His Woman's side so that he will not lose her as they progress. _

_But the demon they come upon is unlike all others before it._

_He tries to bite it. He tries to surge forward and to close his jaws around its throat, but the weight of his body is too much. He feels heavy and slow. He feels useless. He thinks this is the worst feeling in the world—until the demon takes them bad places._

_Kael's vision swirls and pulses. Everything is foggy, and he cannot find His Woman. His nose twitches. He tries to capture Her scent, but there is nothing on the wind. He cannot smell anything. He does not know if he is inside of a forest or a grassy field. He can't smell any water or food. The hound ducks low, his lips curling back over his fangs to show black and purple mottled gums. The creature has done something with His Woman, and he must find Her!_

_Everywhere that he looks, Kael sees her foot beneath overhanging bushes. Each time he rushes to free Her, She disappears. He has no scent to follow and no sounds to listen to. All that he has is what he sees through the fog. It must be enough to protect Her._

_It feels like all of his life is spent searching for Her through woods and fields that never end, finding bodies that look like hers until he gets close, and feeling brushes against his fur from hands that do not belong to Her._

_It is his deepest fear made real—that one day he will not be able to protect Her._

_And then, out of nowhere, She stands before him. The mabari howls with delight and rushes towards Her, tackling her to the ground and covering her with kisses that leave streaks of virulent drool across her face and neck. She is safe, and he will not leave her side again. _

_He does not think he can bear to live if ever he cannot protect Her._

* * *

Kael cowers in a corner of a hallway that he does not recognize.

He does not remember the paths that he took to get here, and he does not know how to get back. He knows why he grows old and slow now. He knows that he has been Bad and that he is being punished for it. Only Bad Dogs must lose their jobs and stay behind. He has let too much harm come to Her, and now he has to Stay.

When he feels footfalls approaching, Kael bellows out a snarl he hopes will be loud enough so that he can hear it, but there is nothing to show but the pain in his throat. He turns his body to face the pair trying to ambush him, only to find it is a scullery boy and His Woman, both of them panting. Though his vision is blurry and She looks so far away, Kael knows something deep in his heart.

She is the best, most wonderful thing he has ever seen, and he will never let Her free from his sights again.

He runs to Her, limping heavily and having to pick up his hind leg so that he can move faster. He jumps up just as he used to, and forces himself to gather a strength rusting and bent bones have forgotten. Her hands rub his sides vigorously. He crams his face against her side and draws in her scent. Kael will not listen to what his body tells him. He will be a Good Boy until he sees he cannot protect Her any longer.

He loves Her.

* * *

_His Woman does not give up on him when his leg breaks._

_She has the giant carry him all the way back to Orzammar, and to where furry-faced short ones with gruff tones can tend to his wounds. He lowers his head as His Woman presses it down onto the table, fearful that he may try biting the ones trying to help him._

_They mash on his leg and hurt him in ways he doesn't think he can be hurt, and all the while She tells him he is a Good Boy._

_It is the only reason he does not bite._

_Even if it hurts, he will always please Her._

* * *

They do not return to Her chambers. Already awake, She thinks to make the most use of Her time, and so his vigil begins. If his time within the tower of nightmares gives him nothing else, it is the practice of keeping Her within sight, and not relying on his ears. He plods after Her dutifully. At first, he thinks She is grateful for this after his strange and frantic outburst. For hours he walks at Her side, drawing on a reservoir of energy he did not know that he had.

He has never known another old dog.

He does not know that what he feels is normal—and the not knowing frightens him.

With his ears useless and his eyes failing him, Kael finds it much harder to trust the others of Her growing pack. He has seen some turn on Her before, but he will not let them get close enough to try it now. As couriers approach with missives, Kael bares his fangs and growls menacingly, shoving his bulky frame between His Woman and all potential threats. It is his very last chance to protect Her properly. If he fails, he fears he will lose his sense of smell, too, and then he will be nothing.

He does not hear Her protests.

He does not hear Her apologies.

On their patrol near the bordering forests, Kael walks just behind Her. He trusts that She will see the dangers ahead before he does, but he can defend Her from potential threats amongst the recruits.

It is Her lover that proves him wrong, even in this.

The elf steps so lightly that Kael does not feel it, and the next he knows, His Woman is tangled in someone's arms, and he cannot hear if She is scared or excited. Without waiting for the unthinkable to happen, Kael lunges and sinks his teeth into Zevran's bicep, using his massive weight to drag the elf off of His Woman and down to the ground.

He goes to bite him again, but then She strikes him.

His heart sinks inside of his chest, and Kael feels a trickle of urine squirt out onto the ground at the thought of displeasing Her. In his peripheral, he sees Hers boots scoot back. Shame makes it worse, and soon he loses control of himself entirely.

The walk back is the longest and hardest he has ever taken.

* * *

_It is the first time She has ever called him a Good boy._

_He stands in front of Her on top of a Hurlock's corpse, nubby tail wagging back and forth proudly. She is panting for breath. He leans forward and licks sloppily at Her hands. She is a good fighter, and if She likes him, they will win many battles, and he will protect Her from anything, no matter what!_

_The elf woman smiles down at him, and she slings her hand to fling his thick drool off of her fingertips. "You're a Good Boy, aren't you?" She says to him._

_He knows that he is, and he will show Her! He barks happily and bows forward to rub his shoulder up against Her thighs, leaning heavily against Her. He has never felt so strongly about anyone in his life. He knows that this woman is the best thing in the world. The elf woman ignores the swamp witch as he trots after her. She stoops over and swiftly tears off a branch of elfroot. He never forgets the smell, and he never forgets the way it feels to smell elfroot and her scent all at once the very first time she pets him._

* * *

He wants Her to know that he remembers.

Kael stares up at Her as She seats Herself in Her chair that evening, trying to avoid looking at him. He knows that what She sees is not what She remembers. He knows that it pains Her. The hound scoots forward on his bottom until he sits to the side of Her knee. He watches Her read for long hours, until the candle beside Her burns low in its disc. His Woman turns Her head to look at it, and then to the small vase on the table beside it. Her hands reach out to touch the wilting leaf of Her bright spring flowers. He knows that he will never find those. He remembers the smell of elfroot, though, and if he brings it to Her, She might understand.

He remembers their time together—as it used to be.

She stares at the candle even longer than She did into Her book, even after its tiny whisper of flame flicks out. Her eyelids droop down and close. Kael shuffles closer, and the hound rests his chin on top of Her leg. He wants to sleep here with Her, more than anything, but his paws itch, and he knows he has to show Her. It is his last job to do, and it feels right to do it.

A Good Dog never fails at their job, and he wants so badly to be a Good Dog.

With great effort, Kael pushes himself to his paws. His dry tongue laps weakly at the back of Her hand until Her restless stirring draws it out of reach. Turning away, Kael lumbers slowly to the cracked door. He paws open the door and does not look back.


	3. Chapter 3

'_Kael, here boy….' She whispers from crumbling ruins, the warm glow of a welcoming fire lights up the outline of her shoulders. 'Come Rest, Boy!'_

The Mabari winces and shuts his eyes tightly. The memories that rest at the edge of his mind tempt him so sweetly, and he wishes for nothing more than to lie down and think of them. Steeling himself, the hound resolutely forces his eyes to open, and he pushes himself free of His Woman's doorway.

The hallways stretch before him, and Kael lumbers on.

With eyelids drooping tiredly and a head that sags low to the ground, he makes slow progress, and struggles to recall how to escape the keep the quickest. As he remembers, the brightest glimmers of the moon peak through the skylights, and bathe his path in a dim blue glow. The halls are silent for his last patrol. Thick paws plod across the stone floors until he reaches the western exit near the kitchens. He knows the door is loose on its hinges here and that escape is always easy.

The old brute stares up at the wooden planks for several moments before he groans with effort, straining higher. Kael pushes his nose firmly into the cracks, thick lips mashing against long yellowing fangs. The wood groans. The clicking noise he searches for is no longer heard, but Kael finds that he can still feel the door give way.

'_That's my Good Boy, Kael," Her fingers scratch his neck and reach for sweet spots—_

Kael shakes his head quickly.

The grizzly mabari stumbles through this new exit, and a rush of night time air and confusing scents climb into his nostrils. Callused paw pads sink into rain-moistened dirt. For long moments, Kael simply stands by the door. Milky eyes shift across blackened courtyards, and his fur begins to prickle. In summers past, the light of the moon is enough to guide his way, but with years that weigh him down like so many rough stones, the task is harder.

The war hound shifts the cropped rims of his ears.

A soft growl rolls in the back of his throat.

'_This way, come on!'_

Stern wrinkles dig their way into his features as his head snaps up to watch a familiar shadow of a boot slip around the nearest corner. He knows that he should not be able to hear Her voice, but he is glad for this one blissful piece of aging. He can think of no better voice to listen to and no better footsteps to follow, but he wishes that the sound of Her—thought lost forever—and thoughts of Her did not drag his feet.

Squishy bits of mud slip between his paw pads and chipped toenails, and Kael steps forward into the light misting of rain that is never kind to his joints. The stocky hound chuffs and wuffs as he clambers after Her shadow. He nearly slips in the mud, but rights himself. Kael follows Her figure as it darts over the picket lining, though he struggles to be able to fit his shoulders through a hole in the next planking. She runs as though he is not old. Kael flexes his muscles and lopes in Her direction. So far from the torches of the keep, he cannot see more than a lunges distance in front of his muzzle, but the smell and feel of the dirt tell him where She is leading him.

'_Kael?' She has Her sleepy morning-time voice, and She giggles—_

Kael narrowly avoids tripping at the sudden change of tone. He stands at the very edge of the _Brakh_ fields, his paws having unearthed some of the brown lumps. The tall gate ends inside of the rock face beyond the next picket. Murky eyes turn higher.

If he can hoist himself up onto the outcropping, he knows he will be able to escape.

He tenses his haunches and edges closer, raising one forepaw to gauge the angle of the incline. Moments of years past flash through his limbs and remind him of a time such hesitation is not needed. He remembers what it feels like to coil and spring in one motion. Kael's claws scrape against the side of the rock, and the worn dog hauls himself up after long minutes and thick ropes of drool splattering the grey stones, panting heavily from a victory that feels more strongly of defeat.

The hound wheezes as he turns to face the ledge and he peers over the side of the high wooden wall. He has not made this jump in three winters. The ache in his bones warns him that he will not be able to do it twice.

_Her scent flits by his nose. She is so close—_

Kael lurches forward before the memory can take root. His chest takes the brunt of the fall and his legs aide very little in recovery. He groans with pain and determination, furrowing his brow as he pushes himself to his paws once more. Kael favors his leg- but he keeps going.

The nearest patch of woods is not far, though in the darkness and with eyes that barely see in daylight hours, it is an hour in the making for Kael. The air thaws around him as he slumps into the tree line, and the big brute continues his search. He will show Her that he remembers, and that he loves Her with everything that he is.

Kael's nose is not what leads him farther into the forests.

His vision pulses and blurs by the time his steps begin to slow. The sun peaks through the uppermost branches. As the earth warms, he feels a sense of relief. The woodland creatures grow quiet as the venerable war hound passes by with jaws that hang wide and pant heavily. A heaviness drags after him that he cannot outrun.

Kael brushes against the trunk of a sapling as he makes his way into a clearing. It must be near. He knows of this place from seasons long past, when laughter came easier to Her. It is a good place. His paws sink into the dirt as he steps forward. With faded vision and exhaustion pulling at his muzzle, Kael struggles to find the energy to sniff out his goal.

A small growth of elfroot, mature enough to bloom in full, but not so heavy as to have leaves weighed down and stinking of too much water and mud.

His muzzle sags open, and the hound whines gently. Kael slowly lowers himself beside the bush. He means only to find a stem to snip with his teeth. He will rise again, he will get up and return to Her; he will bring Her this proof—

The breath catches in his throat and chokes him, and Kael's muscles give way underneath him. The war hound slumps into the damp dirt underneath the foliage. A leaf dangles on his nose, and he can smell nothing else. Wetness begins to drip down from the skies. It is not enough for more than a stray drop to pierce the overhanging tree branches, but the breaking of the rain eases the tension in his bones. He breathes a final heavy, rattling sigh that shakes his lungs, and though his jaws do not obey him, he thinks he chews a leaf free.

_'Kael? What are you—Oh, you Handsome Boy, what are you getting into?' She says to him. Her scent washes over everything, and he feels Her hands as they shimmy against his thick muscled sides. She is here, here with him! Excitement makes him shiver, and Kael turns his eyes to look up at His Woman, and to see the way the sunlight washes over her skin and skinny tipped ears._

'_Were you chewing this?' She says._

_Kael finds that the soreness is gone from his joints, and the mabari hoists himself forward and up against her legs. He barks and yips and paces. His nubby tail wags, and it wags, and he knows that it may never stop now. He pushes his head into Her hands to steal pets just like the first She has ever given him—but His Woman stoops down and slings Her arms around his thick neck to hug him against Her._

'_My Sweet, Sweet Boy," She says, Her voice growing faint and soft, "I know you do."_

The tension slackens from Kael's body, and his eyes close.


	4. Chapter 4

There are many new scents in the barn, but Mother insists it is not frightening.

The four month old pup thinks otherwise, and so when many pairs of legs gather around a large jar of khaddis, a thick leather collar, and a too-loved cushion, she approaches with caution. There is something deep inside of her that makes her like the scent of the Elf woman, but even a hint of base instinct on behalf of her lineage is not enough to tempt her closer.

"I'm so sorry, Meran… I can't imagine what this must feel like," the man's voice is soft and sounds sad.

She tips her head to the side, cropped ears shifting with only a hint of lingering soreness. She gets sad when long bones, sticks, and ropes are all taken from the floor, and when the stable boys are thumped and sent back to cows in need of milking and mules in need of grooming.

"It was his time. We all knew it was coming, there at the end…" She says.

The pup pauses from a distance, and a confused grumble rolls in the back of her throat. Though she is young, she is already packing on thus far untoned muscles on thickening bones. In months to come, she will be trained to be the companions of one of the rangers.

"Ahh, good riddance to that big slobbering mutt," Oghren grunts. Thinking no one sees him, he dashes a hand up to wipe his eyes and nose with the ends of his beard. Even the pup sees it. "I can't tell you how many times that blasted mongrel had me running into trees."

"That is not how it happened, and It knows it well. It is only because of the mabari that in Its drunken stupors It did not wander off of cliffsides," a huge slab of stone makes noises just as the other living creatures, and it makes the pup lower her head defensively and frown with an unsure sternness. Of her litter, she is still the boldest, standing a few yards away from the gathering.

Unsure smiles pull at their cheeks, and the group begin to look to one another.

"I, for one, will miss The Dog more than I will ever miss another," Shale volunteers. It surprises the rest, who all snort incredulously and shake their heads. The strange noises make the pup grumble, and she lowers down to a crouch to crawl closer and investigate.

"Truly! The Dog proved useful time and again—whenever I found myself besieged by crows and pigeons, I had only to shout 'Crows!' to see The Dog run the little cawing shits into the winds… Sometimes, he would even catch a few. They popped inside of his mouth, and he hated it so."

Unsure chuckles grow into fits of laughter. The pup thinks she can smell a hint of salt from their cheeks as she stands next to their knees, but in the barns where everything muddles together, it is hard to tell.

"Something I never thought I would miss is his begging," a blonde man with a simple crown on top of his head speaks. He smiles and shakes his head from side to side, "That dog was a better thief than you could ever hope to be, Zevran. All he'd have to do is just look at you—I might as well have just given him my bowl to eat out of." The elf takes no offense to his words, and merely sets a reassuring hand to the center of Meran's back.

"He was a good boy. I don't think there will ever be another like him…" The elf murmurs, releasing a sigh that seems too heavy for a person so small. The pup grumbles and plods on top of the woman's foot, prompting the elf to look down at her hound's lineage.

"Did you hear about Sten? I heard he's had Kael declared _Qunoran vehl, _and that all of Seheron celebrated his life," the golden haired man says, wonderment in his voice.

The pup stares up at the woman. The elf does not look away from her, but she smiles as she says,

"He sent me a letter. _Ataash varin kata_," her lips brace the words reverently, "In the End Lies Glory."


End file.
